A  Parable  of  the  Rose 

and  Other 


Lyman  Whitney  Allen 


A  PARABLE  OF  THE  ROSE 
AND  OTHER  POEMS 


By  LYMAN  WHITNEY  ALLEN 


ABRAHAM  LINCOLN.     A  Poem. 

Centennial  (Third)  Edition. 

This  poem  was  awarded  the  prize  offered  by  the  Neva 
York  Herald^  in  1895.  The  Centennial  Edition,  the 
third,  has  been  revised  and  enlarged. 

A  PARABLE  OP  THE  ROSE  AND  OTHER  POEMS 


A  Parable  of  the  Rose 

And  Other  Poems 


By 
Lyman  Whitney  Allen 


G.  P.  Putnam's  Sons 

New   York   and    London 

Gbe  fmfcftetbocher  press 

1908 


r 


COPYRIGHT,  1908 

BY 
LYMAN  WHITNEY  ALLEN 


Ube  ftnfcfeerbocfeer  Press,  flew 


TO  PHEBE 

I  cannot  find  in  shop  or  mart 

The  things  which  thou  dost  value  high; 

For  things  can  never  satisfy 
A  mountain  nature  risen  apart 

From  valley  creatures,  coveting 
Life,  vision,  music,  poesie, — 
The  ripest  fruits  of  Wisdom's  tree, 

Imagination's  eye  and  wing. 

Therefore  I  give  thee  of  life's  yield 

My  treasures,  garnered  year  by  year, — 
Some  bits  of  heavenly  atmosphere, 

Some  gleams  the  peaks  of  joy  revealed, 

Some  finer  strains  of  faith  whose  lilt 

Is  music  strange,  to  thee  not  strange 
Since  thou  hast  had  ascension  range 

Where  skyey  domes  of  seers  are  built. 

These  are  a  spirit's  soaring  thrifts 

Got  'twixt  the  rhythms  of  Love  and  Fate, 

A  poet's  soul  articulate, 
A  poet's  songs — his  choicest  gifts. 


CONTENTS 

PAGE 

A  PARABLE  OF  THE  ROSE  i 

CANZONETS *3 

I.     LENSES  OF  DELIGHT  ....  15 

II.     O'ER  RIME'S  CONFUSION    ...  17 

III.  FROM  AERY  LEASHES         ...  19 

IV.  MY  SKYEY  SHEPHERDESS    ...  21 

SAN  GABRIEL 24 

THE  VISION  OF  A  MATURE  MIND     ...  28 

THE  Ass  OF  DESTINY      .....  32 

THE  BIRDS  OF  LOVE 38 

MADRIGALS     .......  41 

I.     TILL  THE  DAY  GOES  BY    .          .          -43 

II.     ALAS  ! 44 

III.  A  DEAR  COMPLEXITY         ...  46 

IV.  PRAIRIE  QUEEN         ....  47 
V.     IP  LOVE  ABIDES        ....  49 

VI.     LOVE'S  COMING  51 
vii 


viii  CONTENTS 

PAGE 

VII.     THE  HEART  OP  SPRING     .                ,   .  53 

VIII.     JUST  SHE 56 

SHAKESPEARE           ......  58 

BEETHOVEN'S  SEVENTH  SYMPHONY             .          .  62 

EDMUND  CLARENCE  STEDMAN  ....  65 

CHINA    ........  66 

ARS  ARTIUM             ......  69 

SONNETS          .......  75 

PRELUDE:  THE  SONNET                   ...  77 

I.     THE  TREE  AND  THE  ROSE          .          .  78 

II.     LIKE  LOVE  IN  HEAVEN     ...  80 

III.  LOVE'S  IMMORTALITY          ...  82 

IV.  MY  SERAPHIM             ....  84 
V.     SAINT  MICHAEL'S       ....  86 

VI.     DAY-DREAMS 88 

VII.     TENNYSON         .....  90 

VIII.     PRINCETON 92 

LYRICS 95 

I.     THE  SAME  OLD  LOVE        ...  97 

II.     A  SOUL'S  RETURN     ....  99 

III.     ATMOSPHERE               ....  100 


CONTENTS  IX 

PAGB 

IV.  THE  CAPTAIN  ON  THE  BRIDGE   .          .  103 

V.  RETROSPECTION          .         .         .         .  107 

VI.  GENESIS             .         ...         .  109 

VII.  THE  SILENCE  OP  GOD         .         .          .  in 

VIII.  MY  FATHER       .          .         .         .          .  113 

WHEAT  AND  HUSKS          .         .         .         .         .  117 

I.  FRUIT  OP  THE  THRESHING  .         .         .119 

II.  THE  NEED  OF  THE  HUSK    .                    .  121 

III.  THE  RIME  OP  THE  REFUSE           .         .  123 

IV.  Loss  AND  GAIN          .         .         .         .  125 
V.  THE  HUSK'S  GLORY   ....  127 

VI.  THE  STARTING  OF  SORROW           .          .  129 

VII.  GOD  AND  THE  WRONG         .         .  131 

VIII.  THE  LAW  OP  THE  EVIL       .         .         .  133 

IX.  FATE  AND  PAIN         ....  135 

X.  A  SONG  OP  THE  MYSTICALS          .         .137 

XI.  BREAK  OF  THE  DAY   ....  140 

XII.  THROUGH  DEATH  TO  LIFE  .          .          .  141 

XIII.  THE  TOUCH  OF  THE  SKIES  .          .  143 

XIV.  THE  CREED  OF  LOVE           .          .          .  145 


A  PARABLE  OF  THE  ROSE. 

A    POET  dreamed  a  matin  dream 

Most  mystical,  most  true; 
His  soul  beheld  a  pageant  gleam 

Against  th'  illumined  blue. 
As  real  did  the  sight  appear, 

With  skyey  landscape  spell, 
As  ever  shone  before  trouvere, 

Lorris  or  Clopinel. 
And  one  who  gazed   with   tranced  heart 

Upon  this  holy  Thing, 
Were  recreant  to  Love  and  Art 

If  he  refused  to  sing. 

i 


2  A  PARABLE   OF  THE  ROSE 

Creative  visions  come  in  days 

When  noontide's  splendor  fades 
Beneath  the  firmamental  rays 

Of  Love's  white  overshades. 
These  are  celestial  signs  that  show 
Love's  sovereign  ebb  and  flow; 
The  imagery  of  Providence 
That  heightens  soul  and  sense, 
And  sets  Life's  perfect  paradigm 
Before  the  world  in  rime. 


There  loomed  the  garden  of  a  King, — 

A  garden  such  as  poet  eye 
Had  ne'er  beholden, — opening 

Through   crystal   portals  wide  and   high 
A  barred  and  battlemented  close 
Of  bloom,  perfume,  adagios 


A  PARABLE  OF  THE  ROSE  3 

Of  fountains  murmurous,  melodies 

From  woodland  quires  and  meadow  broods 
Of  birds  symphonious,  fruiting  trees 

And  trees  umbrageous,  broidered  roods 

Of  rest,  delight's  similitudes, 
Processions  hymnic,  jocund  forms, 

In  train  of  Love's  each  new  surprise, 
With  dancing  feet,  and  radiant  swarms 

Of  children  playing  circlewise 

In  angelhood's  disguise. 


The  poet  wandered  to  and  fro, 
And  gladness  filled  his  heart. 

His  nature  ne'er  before  did  know 
Such  promptings  unto  art. 

Each  scented  waft  of  atmosphere 

Was  inspiration  strong  and  clear. 


A  PARABLE   OF  THE   ROSE 

Before  the  poet's  loitering  feet 

A  rosebush  stood,  and  on  it  shone 
One  great  white  Rose  full-blown. 

Its  creamy  petals,  oversweet, 

Shed  fragrance  of  such   high   degree, 
Such  musky  sorcery, 

That  all  the  garden  seemed  to  sense 

Its  quickening  redolence. 


About  it  spread  a  circle  fair 

Of  angels  with  long  folded  wings, 
Who  guarded  with  ecstatic  care 

This  Rose  of  which  the  poet  sings; 
And  round  it  ranged  a  shining  row 

Of  saints,  whose  blessed  eyes  bespake 
Large  wonder,  chanting  sweet  and  low 

Life's  rapture  for  Love's  sake. 


A  PARABLE  OF  THE  ROSE 

And  one  fair  saint  high  Love  bequeathed 

In  days  of  earlier  bliss 
Bent  o'er  it  tenderly  and  breathed 

One  long  ascension  kiss, 
And  lifted  her  white  hands  and  blessed, 

A  prescience  in  her  eyes, 
The  Rose  with  such  enamoured  zest, — 

For  this  was  Paradise, — 
That  as  he  gazed  the  Rose  and  She 
Seemed  mixed  in  sacred  unity. 


But  none  might  touch   the  great  white  Rose 
That  grew  within  the  garden's  close. 
This  was  the  garden  of  the  King, 

And  this  the  King's  beloved  flower 
Full-blown  for  Him.     Each  lesser  thing 

Of  amaranthine  mead  or  bower 


6  A  PARABLE  OF  THE  ROSE 

All  might  possess;  but  Kinghood's  mind 
Delight  above  delights  designed, 

And  fashioned  to  art's  last  degree 
A  royal  Rose  for  Royalty. 


The  poet  gazed,  and  o'er  his  soul 

Wave  after  wave  of  rapture  stole. 

His  lips  were  dumb;  his  eyes  were  fixed 
Upon  the  flower;  what  glamour  mixed 

With  glory!     In  its  deep  rich  heart 

A  dewdrop  lay.     What  rightful  part 

Had  he  by  sufferance  in  such  bloom 
That  filled  the  garden  with  perfume? 


The  poet  waited  long  beside 

The  Rose,  and  grew  more  mystified. 


A  PARABLE  OF  THE   ROSE  ; 

He  breathed  its  odors,— but  to  dare 

To  touch  it! — nay,  it  was  the  King's; 

It  was  enough  to  have  some  share 
Of  saints'  and  angels'  sorcerings. 


At  last  he  heard  the  rhythmic  feet 

Of  the  approaching  King;  and  bowed 
Beside  the  Rose,  feeling  its  sweet 

Wild  joyance  round  him  like  a  cloud 
Of  passionate  incense  flame  and  swing 
To  greet  the  coming  of  the  King. 

He  bowed,  but  dared  not  lift  his  eyes; 

This  was  the  Lord  of  Paradise. 


He  sensed  the  patience  of  his  soul 

Become  high  burgeoning,  while  all 


8  A  PARABLE  OF  THE  ROSE 

His  mystic  feelings  seemed  to  roll 

From  joy  to  joy  seraphical 
Up  Nature's  every  opened  aisle 

With  hope's  delirious  overflows 
That  shook  the  flowers  and  stirred  the  file 

Of  angels  round  the  great  white  Rose. 

The  King  stood  still,  and  from  his  eyes 

The  love  that  fashioned  Paradise 

Illumed  Him,  while  His  lips,  bedewed 
With  sweetness,  breathed  beatitude; 

And  all  the  saints  and  seraphim 

Bowed  low  adoringly  to  Him. 

The  King  came  to  the  great  white  Rose 
That  grew  within  His  garden's  close; 
And  bending  o'er  it  with  a  kiss, 
While  every  petal  shook  with  bliss 


A  PARABLE  OF  THE  ROSE  g 

And  the  pale  chalice  glowed  and  flamed, 
The  Lord  of  Paradise  exclaimed: 
"O  Rose,  My  Rose,  I  planted  here 

And  tended,  thou  hast  bloomed  at  last ! 
So  full,  so  white  thou  dost  appear! 

Thou  hast  My  early  faith  surpassed! 
Thou  art  the  rose  I  hoped  would  be 
When  in  great  love  I  cultured  thee!" 

With  this  He  stooping  plucked  the  flower 
And  pressed  it  to  His  lips.     Again 

The  fluttering  birds  in  every  bower 

Warbled,  while  all  the  children  fain 

With  saints  and  angels  raised  their  eyes 

In  holy  rapture  toward  the  skies. 

"O  Rose,  My  Rose!  thou  shalt  fulfil 
At  last  thy  mission  and  My  will. 


IO  A  PARABLE  OF  THE   ROSE 

The  King's  white  roses  all  are  grown 
For  the  King's  singers, — them  alone." 


And  all  the  garden  seemed  to  gleam 

With  the  new  joy;  the  poet  heard 
Sweet  tides  of  holy  music  stream 

From  distant  hills;  bird  after  bird 
Mixed  dulcet  strains  in  orchards  near 
With  children's  laughter  sweet  and  clear; 

And  all  the  angels  shook  their  wings 

In  mystic  ravishings. 

And  one  glad  saint  stood  forth  and  bent 

A  moment  o'er  the  poet,  sent 

One  flash  of  love  into  his  breast, 
One  testimonial  kiss  impressed, 

Then  slowly  rose  and  stood  beside 

The  shining  King  beatified. 


A  PARABLE   OF  THE   ROSE  II 

Then  turned  the  King  of  Paradise 
Full  on  the  poet,  held  the  flower 

Above  him  quivering,  while  his  eyes 

Shone  with  such  grace,  such  regnant  power, 

That  every  soul  was  caught  and  swayed 
By  holy  Love's  divinest  art. 

Then  smiled  the  King,  and  stooping  laid 

The  Rose  upon  the  poet's  heart; 

^ 

And  as  he  clasped  the  peerless  thing 
The  King  exclaimed:  "Now,  Poet,  sing!" 


CANZONETS. 


I. 

LENSES  OF  DELIGHT. 

pray,  and  know  the  heavens  are  open 

wide 

To  send  down  every  grace; 
To  live,  and  feel  a  woman's  heart  beside 

To  gladden  every  place; 

To  dream  with  her,  and  watch  the  tender  blue 
For  every  wonder  new; 

This  is  to  rise  and  breathe  the  purer  air 

Off  lofty  mountain  crest; 
Behold  the  further  stretch  of  shining  stair 

On  which  high  spirits  rest; 
And  e'er  where  vanished  ministrants  have  trod, 

Perceive  the  form  of  God. 

15 


l6  LENSES   OF  DELIGHT 

Sky  visions  seen  through  lenses  of  delight 

Set  in  a  woman's  eyes; 

And  music,  heard  through  passionate  lips  be- 
dight 

With  Love's  vermilion  dyes, — 
These  are  the  feeders  to  a  poet's  lays 
Which  after  ages  praise. 


II. 

O'ER  RIME'S  CONFUSION. 

nPHOU  earnest,  oh  so  sorcerously  sweet! 

One  matin  hour  of  eld, 
My  winged  Hope!  and,  at  thy  shrinal  feet, 

Since  then  mine  art  has  held 
Each  song-wrought  censer  of  my  soul's  desire, 
For  Love's  empyreal  fire. 

Flaming  o'er  rime's  confusion  thou  didst  come 

Upon  my  tranced  heart: 
Thy  miracle  struck  every  prophet  dumb, 

And  my  tumultuous  art 
Awoke  to  see,  from  gleam  to  gleam  along, 

Love's  Bethel  steps  of  song. 
a  17 


1 8  O'ER  RIME'S  CONFUSION 

« 

Thou  art  Love's  angel  with  forbidding  sword 

Guarding  Arcadian  state; 
The  poet's  moods,  the  poet's  music  stored 

Within  Love's  templed  gate, 
Which  thou  alone  mak'st  radiant  passage  through 
Down  from  th'  unstained  blue. 


III. 

FROM  AERY  LEASHES. 

A  AY   winged  Faith  thou  art,  and  thou  art 
"*         here, 

From  aery  leashes  slipped, — 
My  constant  vision,  my  enduring  seer, 

My  life's  apocalypt; 
My  priestess  at  the  altar  of  romance, 
My  spirit's  puissance. 

Nor  lips  nor  lute  can  tell  the  ecstasy 

Thine  orisons  bestow; 
Responsive  founts  of  psychic  power  set  free 

In  music's  mystic  flow. 
Thy  love  is  my  cathedral  sheltering, 

'Neath  which  I  dream  and  sing. 
19 


2O  FROM  AERY  LEASHES 

Regeneration's  bread!     I  eat  and  free 
My  soul  from  earth's  domain; 

Imagination's  wine!     I  drink  and  see 
The  sky's  superior  grain; 

And  life,  from  glory  unto  glory  spent, 

Is  one  long  sacrament. 


IV. 

MY  SKYEY  SHEPHERDESS. 

'"THERE  is  a  shining  garden  far  away 

Walled  from  the  common  sight; 
An  orchard  of  green  palms,  a  wide  array 

Of  roses  red  and  white, 
And  tender  violets  whose  azure  eyes 
Bespeak  Love's  paradise. 

Here  is  Love's  music,  such  as  never  feels 

The  insufficient  lyre; 
Here  is  Love's  perfect  rapture  at  the  heels 

Of  perfected  desire; 

And  here  the  poet  wanders  with  his  Muse 
Down  fancy's  avenues. 

21 


22  MY  SKYEY  SHEPHERDESS 

With  eyes  to  see,  with  ears  to  hear,  with  heart 

To  sense  the  universe 
As  must  the  seraphim,  thou  giv'st  mine  art 

The  things  thy  thoughts  rehearse; 
The  finer  things  of  darkness  and  of  light, 
And  Love's  interior  sight. 


For  Love  alone  that  is  the  world's  eclipse 

The  heights  of  song  I  scale; 
Thine  eyes  the  sorcery  of  the  peaks,  thy  lips 

The  witchery  of  the  vale. 
And  my  enchanted  thoughts  do  reverence 
To  thy  diviner  sense. 


Thou   art  Love's  warden  on  the  stormy  steep 
Where  poet  frenzy  leads; 


MY   SKYEY  SHEPHERDESS  23 

Or  where  'mid  sunny  meadows  verdured  deep 

His  browsing  fancy  feeds; 
Thou  art  the  surety  of  my  song's  success, 
My  skyey  Shepherdess! 


SAN  GABRIEL. 

CAN  Gabriel! 

I  stand  and  wonder  at  thy  walls 
So  old,  so  quaint;  a  glory  falls 
Upon  them  as  I  view  the  past, 
And  read  the  story  which  thou  hast 

Preserved  so  well. 


San  Gabriel! 

I  gaze  and  marvel  at  thy  towers, 
Thy  belfry  strange  through  which  the  hours 
Fleet-footed  crowd  two  hundred  years, 
Whose   echoing  music  yet  appears 

In  each  sweet  bell. 

24 


SAN   GABRIEL  2$ 

San  Gabriel! 

What  souls  were  they  who  fashioned  thee 
To  be  a  blessed  charity! 
What  faith  was  theirs  who  bore  the  cross, 
And  counted  wealth  and  ease  but  loss 

Of  Christ  to  tell! 


San  Gabriel! 

Before  thy  gates  what  heavy  tolls 
Have  fallen  from  sin-burdened  souls! 
Within  thy  walls  what  new  desires 
Of   love  have   quenched   fierce   hatred's   fires, 

From  nave  and  cell! 


San  Gabriel! 

What  guidance  hast  thou  flashed  along 
The  ways  of  savagery  and  wrong, 


26  SAN   GABRIEL 

And  shamed  th'  unholy  and  unkind, 
The   theftuous  hand,   the  murderous  mind, 
Ere  ravage  fell! 


San  Gabriel! 

A  glamour  of  the  ancient  time 
Remains  with  thee!     Thou  hast  the  rime 
Of  some  old  poem,  and  the  scent 
Of  some  old  rose's  ravishment 

Naught  can  dispel! 


San  Gabriel! 

From  Mexico  to  Monterey 
Thy  sisters  greet  thee  'midst  decay; 
But  thou  dost  stand  a  living  thing, 
And  round  thee  living  passions  cling 

And  voices  swell! 


.        SAN   GABRIEL  27 

San  Gabriel! 

Within  thee  all  my  doublings  cease; 
I  find  the  holy  Prince  of  Peace; 
And  feel  the  thrill  of  brotherhood 
Betwixt  my  soul  and  those  who  stood 
For  this  same  faith,  for  this  same  world, 
And  Christ's  one  flag  of  love  unfurled! 

San  Gabriel!     San  Gabriel! 

I  own  thy  sweet  and  mystic  spell. 


THE  VISION  OF  A  MATURE  MIND. 

T   CARE  not  for  the  Spring  as  once  I  did. 

I  miss  the  gladness  of  those  earlier  years 
When,  in  the  orchard  where  the  robins  hid 

Their  nests  'mid  bloomy  coverts,  eyes  and 

ears 

Caught  mime  and  rime  of  mystic  rhapsodies, 
As  Life  and  Joy  disported  'neath  the  apple  trees. 

I  thrilled  to  sense  the  pulsing  of  the  grass 

And  breathe  the  subtle  odors  of  the  ground, 
As  Nature's  resurrection  morns  did  pass 

Into  ascension  days  of  light  and  sound; 
I  dreamed  of  love  and  power,  youth's  alchemies, 
Achievement   quickly   wrought   and   swift-sur- 
rendering ease. 
28 


THE  VISION  OF  A  MATURE   MIND          29 

I  gazed  entranced  upon  th'  expansive  sky, 
And  watched  the  garish  clouds,  white- 
bannered  ships, 
Sail    over   heaven's    blue  main.      I   felt   God's 

eye 

Impiercing  Beauty's  wide  apocalypse. 
I  built  me  vast  cathedral  fantasies, 
And  joined  the  universal  anthem  of  degrees. 

But   now   I    dwell   amidst   the   city's   strain, 
See      flaunted      Wealth      and      Fashion's 

masquerade, 
Hear    Toil's    deep     undertones    of    hate   and 

pain, 
Witness    Life   fighting    Fate   with   broken 

blade. 

My  soul  is  limned  with  ominous  images 
Of  want,   despair,  and  shame, — and    death, — 

Sin's  sure  decrees. 


3O          THE  VISION   OF  A  MATURE   MIND 

I  hear  above  bird-songs  curses  of  men, 

Heart-sobs  of  women,  little  children's  wails. 

Beneath  the  apple  blooms  there  looms  the  ken 

Of    Woe's    processions    o'er    Oppression's 

trails; 

My  soul  cannot  escape  earth's  tyrannies; 
The  sorcerous  season  palls,  the  wonted  pleasure 
flees. 


Gone  is  the  olden  gladness  of  the  Spring; 

I  feel  an  alien  'mid  its  happy  throngs; 
While   man   wounds   man,   while   hearts   have 

sufferings, 
Mine    is    the    sphere    of    life's    unrighted 

wrongs. 

I  turn  back  to  the  world's  activities 
To  haste  Love's  golden  age  as  God's  high  Will 
shall  please. 


THE  VISION   OF  A   MATURE   MIND  3! 

The  dreams  of  lifting  up  Redemption's  Cross, 
Holding  Faith's  torch  above  the  paths  of 

gloom, 

Starting  a  song  of  Hope  through  cells  of  loss, 
Planting  Love's  roses  'gainst  the   walls  of 

doom, — 

These  are  the  Springtime's  sweetest  reveries; 
These  are  Heaven's  holy  joys  beneath  earth's 
fruiting  trees. 


THE  ASS  OF  DESTINY. 

T   SING  of  a  simple  creature, 

The  ass  of  destiny. 
My  vision  takes  strangeful  feature 

As  eyes  of  the  spirit  see 
Past  veils  of  the  dark  and  the  dust; 
And  art  bends  low  to  the  must. 


I  sing  of  an  animal  sign; 

I  wot  not  of  what  I  sing, 
Beholding  the  glory  shine 

From  Heaven  round  earthly  thing. 
My  soul  is  filled  with  an  awe 

Of  fate  that  is  upper  law. 
32 


THE  ASS  OF  DESTINY  33 

The  Master  of  sacrifice 

Rode  triumphing  on  an  ass; 

Love  furnished  the  earnest  price 
For  ownership  of  the  pass 

Up  hell-fought  steeps  to  the  plains 

Where  losses  emerge  in  gains. 

Behind  the  Acceptable  Year 

What  cycles  of  years  there  are! 

And  writ  is  the  history  clear 
On  mystery's  calendar 

Of  this  strange  ass  and  the  King 

Who  rode  to  His  suffering. 

It  came  as  all  others  came, — 

This  creature  elect.     Who  knew 
The  hovering  wings  of  flame, 
The  rhythmical  retinue 


34  THE  ASS  OF  DESTINY 

That  kept  the  centuried  way 
Unhindered  for  its  birthday? 


'T  was  born;  but  who  recognized 

The  steed  of  the  Prince  of  Peace? 

It  grew;  but  what  man  surmised 

Its  worth  to  the  world's  increase? 

No  singular  signs  it  wore. 

'T  was  only  an  ass, — no  more. 


At  last  came  the  fulness  of  time; 

All  time  to  its  fulness  comes; 
This  scourges  the  poet's  rime 

To   songs   of   millenniums. 
Who  knows  where  such  strain  belongs 
May  fashion  the  ages'  songs. 


THE  ASS  OF  DESTINY  35 

A  purpose;  a  fact  to  be; 

Betwixt  them  long  ignorance 
That  counts  that  the  race  is  free 

And  time  and  the  world  are  chance, 
And  all  that  happens  fulfils 
The  folly  of  fugitive  wills. 


So  be  it  for  thee,  thou  blind 

To  song,  and  thou  deaf  to  light! 

In  loftier  realms  of  the  mind 

Eyes  hearken  and  ears  have  sight; 

For  music  and  flame  are  one 

Where  wings  of  seraphim  run. 

The  prophets  are  not  extinct; 

Innumerous  as  the  stars 
They  live  unbeholden,   linked 

With  God  past  visible  bars; 


36  THE  ASS  OF  DESTINY 

They  speak;  Love  hears  and  affirms 
Fulfilment  in  mystic  terms. 


Time  understands;  and  the  air 

Has  knowledge;  and  force  beholds; 

The  angels  guard;  and  the  care 
Of  sainthood's  heart  unfolds. 

What  was,  is,  and  is  to  be 

Is  scion  of  Destiny. 


A  little  enlarged  to  much 
In  prophecy's  aftermath; 

Who  kens  when  the  King  may  touch 
The  trivial  in  thy  path, 

And  prove  it  predestinate, 

The  hinge  of  the  ages'  fate? 


THE  ASS   OF  DESTINY 

Walk  softly,  O  soul,  and  watch! 

Thou  knowest  not  at  what  turn 
The  commonest  thing  may  catch 

The  glory  of  Heaven,  and  burn 
Before  thee,  and  show  the  edge 
Of  infinite  privilege. 


THE  BIRDS  OF  LOVE. 

TTIGH    Love    lets    loose    his    singing    birds 

In  every  heart  that  yields  to  him. 
These  are  the  poet's  runic  words 
For  what  the  Muses  limn. 

O  Love!     I  yield  my  heart  to  thee; 

To  thee  most  leal  my  heart  belongs; 
Come,  birds  of  skyey  royalty, 

And  sing  your  happy  songs! 

My  orchard  trees  are  all  in  bloom, 

And  waiting  for  your  quiring  moods: 
Come,  mingle  with  the  Spring's  perfume 

Your  fluting  interludes! 
38 


THE  BIRDS  OF  LOVE  39 

O  birds  of  Love,  the  wild,  the  tame! 

I  crave  each  aery  fugitive. 
Who  holds  to  Love  may  boldly  claim 

All  boons  which  Love  can  give. 

O  birds  of  Love,  how  blithe  you  are! 

Bright   waftures   from    his   tropic   breast. 
Love  changes  Nature's  calendar 

And  turns  the  east  wind  west. 

O  birds  of  Love,  what  cheer  you  make! 

There  is  no  discord  in  your  notes; 
'T  is  Love  alone  has  power  to  wake 

Song-bursts  from  silent  throats. 

O  birds  of  Love,  your  carollings 

With  joyance  fill  each  fragrant  spray! 

Love's  is  the  only  voice  that  sings 
The  perfect  roundelay. 


40  THE  BIRDS  OF  LOVE 

O  birds  of  Love  'twixt  earth  and  sky! 

Build  firm  your  nests,  bring  forth  your 

young. 
Ascension  things  fast  multiply 

Wherever  Love  has  sprung. 

0  birds  of  Love,  you  vanish  not 

With  warnings  of  the  Winter's  strain! 

Love  keeps  the  heart  a  Summer  spot 
And  all  his  birds  remain. 

High  Love's  ethereal  comradery! 

Fulfilment  of  the  poet's  words! 
The  heart  can  never  lonely  be 

With  Love's  sweet  singing  birds. 


MADRIGALS. 


I. 

TILL  THE  DAY  GOES  BY. 

A    FACE  to  a  sky  of  blue, 

A  heart  to  a  song; 
With  wild  birds  singing  through 

The  whole  day  long; 
And  roses  crimson  and  white 

Across  my  face 
Blown  hard  in  the  wind's  delight 

With  perfume  and  grace; 
I  lie  and  dream  to  the  sky, 

And  sing  to  my  heart, 
And   dream   and   sing   till   the    day   goes   by 

And  the  birds  depart. 

43 


II. 

ALAS! 

IV  A  Y  heart  is  sad  with  waiting,  Love, 

Waiting  for  thee. 
My  eyes  are  dim  with  watching,  Love, 

Watching  for  thee. 

The  sunlight  fades,  the  night  draws  nigh, 
The  stars  come  forth  in  the  clear  sky, 
I  sit  alone,  alone  and  sigh, — 

Sighing  for  thee. 

My  heart  is  faint  with  longing,  Love, 

Longing  for  thee. 
My  eyes  are  worn  with  weeping,  Love, 

Weeping  for  thee. 

44 


ALAS !  45 

The  night-winds  murmur  as  they  pass, 
Trailing   thy   name   through    the   long   grass, 
My  soul  cries  out,  alas!  alas! 
Alas  for  me! 


III. 

A  DEAR  COMPLEXITY. 

JWl  Y  Sweetheart,  Sweetheart  mine! 

I  love  but  thee,  but  thee, 

Thou  dear  complexity, 
Half  human,  half  divine! 
Thy  graces  ever  shine 

Each  day  on  me,  on  me; 

Without  thy  face  to  see, 
Each  day  my  heart  would  pine, 

And  joy  would  slowly  surely  be 

Only  a  haunting  memory. 


46 


IV. 
PRAIRIE  QUEEN. 

IV /IY  heart  is  a  great  prairie 

Close-bounded  about  by  sky, — 
Blue  sky  of  God,  with  a  rim 
Of  yellow  and  red,  and  aery; — 

Sweet   wealth   of   the   thoughts   that   lie 
Past  graces  where  trace  is  dim. 

Down  deep  in  the  sacred  centre, 
Bloom-wise  to  the  rising  sun, 
Art  thou,  my  Prairie  Queen! 

Whose  waftures  of  fragrance  enter 
My  spirit,  and  make  it  one 

With  Love  and  the  world  unseen. 
47 


48  PRAIRIE   QUEEN 

My  God  and  my  Queen  are  sufficient, 
On  prairie  or  mountain  range; 

I   ask  nothing   more   nor  less,- 
His  compassing  power  omniscient, 
Her  love  that  can  never  change, 
Their  fusion  of  tenderness. 


V. 

IF  LOVE  ABIDES. 

VI7HAT  grief  can  break  the  heart 

If  Love  abides? 
Whate'er  betides 
Sweet  Love  can  heal  the  smart. 


He  with  divinest  art 
Swift  help  provides; 

What  grief  can  break  the  heart 
If  Love  abides? 

49 


50  IF  LOVE  ABIDES 

His  words  new  courage  start; 

Despair  subsides; 

And  sorrow  hides 
In  unknown  ways  apart; 
What  grief  can  break  the  heart 

If  Love  abides? 


VI. 
LOVE'S  COMING. 

IN  Springtide  days  of  splendor, 

When  speech  was  blithe  and  tender, 
And  all  the  world  of   hearts   was   young 
and  strong, 

Love  came  with  wooing  graces, 

Slipped  out  from  shining  spaces, 

With  lifted  lute  and  lips  for  perfect  song. 

On  floating  wings  he  lingered 
In  aureoles,  and  fingered 

The  shimmering  strings  and  sang  a  song 
to  me. 


52  LOVE'S  COMING 

He  sang  so  sweet,  a  feeling 
Of  sunlit  pinions  stealing 

Around  me  bound  my  soul  in  ecstasy. 

With  one  long  note  of  rapture 
He  turned,  as  if  to  capture 

Some  wildering  fragrance  blown  across  his 

way; 

Then  suddenly  ascending 
He  vanished,  like  the  spending 

Of  light  behind  a  cloud  of  fading  day. 

Through  weary  years  of  yearning 
I  wait  for  Love's  returning 

And  never  comes  he  back  nor  heeds  my  cry ; 
But  all  my  heart  is  ringing 
With  echoes  of  his  singing: 

Oh,  come,  sweet  Love,  again  before  I  die! 


VII. 
THE  HEART  OF  SPRING. 

T  ROSE  from  my  sleep 
When  thou  didst  call; 

I  broke  from  the  keep 
Of  Winter's  thrall; 

The  frost-time  scorning 

I  hailed  the  morning 

To  dwell  with  thee  and  Life. 


I  gazed  on  the  skies 

When  thou  didst  smile; 
I  felt  in  thine  eyes 

The  sun's  warm  guile; 

53 


54  THE  HEART  OF  SPRING 

My  dark  robes  leaving 
I  donned  light's  weaving 

To  dwell  with  thee  and  Joy. 


I  harked  to  the  birds 

When  thou  didst  sing; 

I  heard  in  thy  words 
The  heart  of  Spring; 

The  treetops*  quiring 

I  left,  desiring 

To  dwell  with  thee  and  Song. 


I  scented  the  South 

When  thou  didst  kiss; 
I  drained  at  thy  mouth 

The  cup  of  bliss; 


THE  HEART  Of  SPRING  S3 

From  earthly  storing 
I  turned  adoring 

To  dwell  with  thee  and  Love, 


With  thee  I  dwell, 

My  goddess  sweet! 
I  feel  the  spell 

Around  thy  feet; 
'T  is  earth  ascending, 
Tis  Spring  unending 

To  dwell  with  thee  and  Faith. 


VIII. 
JUST  SHE. 

T  TOW  beautiful  are  the  days  of  Spring! 

But  what  if  there  be  no  heart  to  sing? 
Who  cares  for  the  bluebird's  note 

If  one  sweet  voice  is  still, 
And  silent  the  only  throat 

That  set  the  earth  athrill? 
'T  was  Love  that  made  the  Spring  for  me, — 
My  Love,  just  She,  just  She. 

How  beautiful  are  the  days  of  Spring! 

But  what  if  there  be  no  heart  to  sing? 
56 


JUST  SHE  57 

Who  cares  for  the  May's  perfume 

If  one  sweet  flower  is  dead, 
And  vanished  the  only  bloom 

That  life  with  joy  o'erspread? 
'T  was  Love  that  unmade  the  Spring  for  me, — 
My  Love,  just  She,  just  She. 

How  beautiful  are  the  days  of  Spring! 
And  what  if  there  be  a  heart  to  sing? 
There  's  rapture  that  conquers  grief, 

When  one  sweet  soul  exists 
Past  death,  and  assures  belief 

In  Heaven's  evangelists. 

'T  is  Love  that  remakes  the  Spring  for  me, — 
My  Love,  just  God  and  She. 


SHAKESPEARE. 


T  MMORTAL  Shakespeare, — he  who  loved  Great 

Love 

And  built  him  thrones  where'er  his  genius  made 
Dead  ages  live!     Within  the  heart  of  Rome, 
Above  the  Caesars,  set  he  One  whose  grace 
Turned  catacombal  darkness  into  light 
To  daze  the  world ;  and  in  the  pagan  North, 
And  past  the  confines  of  the  sunset  sea, 
Wrought  spiritual  kingdoms,  bulging  forth 
The  ancient  walls  of  custom  into  wreck 

With  the  new  throne-rooms  of  the  Nazarene. 

58 


SHAKESPEARE  59 

Death  has  one  pang, — the  leaving  of  my  books; 
But  am  I  loth  to  leave  the  written  word 
To  find  the  speaking  master?     Such  great  souls 
As  claim,  unclaiming,  worthy  reverence 
From  those  who  find  their  own  exceeding  worth 
In  the  re-birth  of  spirit  at  the  touch 
Of  genius,  the  sky-flash  of  earthly  souls, 
Are  as  the  sea  that  flings  the  surf  ashore 
In  long  thin  edges  of  encurling  foam, 
But  has  its  deeps  unfathomable,  breadths 
For  mighty  ships,  and  mounts  and  gulfs  of  wave, 
Close-kindred  to  the  moon  and  all  the  stars. 


The  surge  of  Shakespeare's  soul  along  the  edge 

Of  our  great  Anglo-Saxon  continent, 

By  night,  by  day,  through  changing  seasons' 

tides, 
We  hear;  we  hearken,  laughing,  praising  Heaven 


60  SHAKESPEARE 

For  seashore  such  as  ours,  and  our  great  sea. 
But  out  afar,  'mid  mists  that  have  not  lifted, 
Lie  the  vast    breadth   and   depth  of   Shake- 
speare's soul, 

Of  which  King  Lear  and  Hamlet  and  Macbeth 
Are  but  the  earthward  foam.     To  leave  this 

shore 

Is  to  sail  outward  on  yon  open  sea, 
And  sailing  hear  the  rhythm  of  yeasty  deeps 
Fierce-tossed  with  mighty  billows,  feel  the  force 
Of  under-fathoms  and  the  straining  moon, 
And  see  round  prow  and  stern  in  silver  wake 
To  starboard,  larboard,  gulfward,  crestward  rise 
Afar  and  near,  round,  round  on  every  wave, 
Innumerous  Ariels  and  Prosperos, 
And  all  the  gloam  and  lustre  of  all  lands, 
All  camps  and  courts,  all  huts  and  palaces, 
And  all  that  build  their  worlds  for  all  delight, 
Forever  greatening  with  eternity; 


SHAKESPEARE  6l 

And  ours  the  ship,  and  ours  the  captain  strong, 
And  ours  the  vision, — vision  of  high  things. 


Farewell,  ye  hither  powers,  the  while  there  works 
The  unadulterate  air  my  soul  has  breathed 
From  o'er  yon  thither  far  Shakespearian  main! 
Not  merman,  mermaid,  Neptune's   hoary  form 
With  mythic  trident  of  the  aery  wave, 
Are  luminous  and  rhythmic  as  yon  shapes 
I  see  arising,  plunging,  dashed  with  foam 
Effulgent  with  the  light  of  farther  suns. 

Farewell,  ye  hither  powers!  sweet  books  adieu! 
Ye  sands  and  foam  and  narrow  shore  farewell! 
We  will  sail  outward  to  the  open  sea. 


BEETHOVEN'S  SEVENTH  SYMPHONY. 

AN  IMPRESSION. 
POCO  SOSTENUTO.     VIVACE. 

HPHE  dead  Christ  starts;  the  dual  pall  of  night 

Falls  wrested  from  the  Galilean's  face; 
Death  flees  before  imperious  hosts  that 

chase, 
With  swords  of  splendor  and  white  spears  of 

light, 

Wan  wraiths  of  agonies  and  lingering  sight 
Of  scarred  Golgotha  in  divine  disgrace. 
The  red  dawn  quivers,  and  the  burthened 
space 

Strains  with  the  passion  of  immortal  might. 
62 


BEETHOVEN'S  SEVENTH  SYMPHONY     63 
ALLEGRETTO. 

The  dead  Christ  arises;  the  grave  is  defeated; 

the  stone 
Is  rolled  away  by  the  angels;  from   far 

empyrean 
Tumultuous      ravishment,      mystical 

flutterings, 
White  whirlwinds  of  cherubim  wondrous  and 

worldward  flown. 

On  one  skyward  billow  of  song  the  trium- 
phant Judean 

Moves  into  the  glory  and  gladness  and 
wafture  of  wings. 

PRESTO.       PRESTO    MENO    ASSAI. 

Waking  Easter  lilies  lift  their  eyes 

To  the  weeping  gaze  of  Magdalene. 


64     BEETHOVEN'S  SEVENTH  SYMPHONY 

Pageants  pass  bewildering  between 
Dawn  and  morn,  and  all  things  seem  to  rise. 
Mystery  casts  off  its  dim  disguise; 

Power  leaps  from  the  luminous  Nazarene; 

Life  has  won;  the  leaves  of  hope  are  green; 
Love's  rose  blossoms;  earth  is  Paradise. 

FINALE:  ALLEGRO  CON  BRIO. 

Heaven  is  emptied  of  angels ;  the  jubilant  legions, 
Mists  of  sweet  minstrelsy,  orient  shadows 

of  care, 
Whirling   and    swirling    encircle    with 

paean  and  laughter. 
Strong  with  the  infinite  strength  to  the  infinite 

regions 
Rises  the  Crucified,  swift  on  the  tides  of 

the  air, 

Drawing  the  worshipping  ages  in  ec- 
stasy after. 


EDMUND  CLARENCE  STEDMAN. 

I    NEVER  saw  him  face  to  face, — 

This  poet  with  his  generous  grace. 
Yet  oft  have  I  beheld  his  soul 
In  singing  robes,  while  through  me  stole 
A  subtle  joyance  that  renewed 
My  faltering  faith's  ascension  mood, 
Whose  sweet  persistence  made  it  part 
Of  inspiration's  life  and  art. 
A  mystic  voice  within  me  saith: 
"He  lives  and  sings;  who  cries  out    'death'?' 


CHINA. 

IMPERIAL  China,  immemorial  born, 
Beyond  the  offing  of  the  Orient  seas! 

Thy  natal  star  flamed  in  the  misty  morn 
Of  far-off  centuries. 

We  of  a  later  day  and  younger  age 

Touch  hands   on  thine,    and  feel  the    fee- 
bling  beat, 

The  languor  of  thy  lessening  heritage, 
Life's  flow  from  founts  effete. 


Our  ears  are  toward  thy  pleading  unto  us, 

The  lisping  of  thy  hoarse  and  hoary  lips; 
66 


CHINA  67 

Thy  semblant  music  trembles  ominous 
From   faltering  finger-tips. 


In  vain  thy  veteran  search ;  now  would  we  guide 
Thy  feet  aback  to  Paradisean  streams, 

Whence  softly  flows  the  blest  ancestral  tide 
Of  thy  Confucian  dreams. 

Beside  those  fountains  pure  thou  shalt  not  rest 
And  dull  thy  passion  unto  poppied  mood; 

But  drinking  deep,  of  primal  power  possessed 
And  childhood's  sanctitude, 

• 
Thou  shalt  press  onward  toward  the  farther 

goal, 

Maturer  being,  mellower  strains  repeat, 
Matutine  music  of  the  larger  soul, 
Redemption's  chorus  sweet. 


68  CHINA 

Thou  shalt  attain  the  land  which  grace  endues; 

Its  white  noon  dimless,  its  camellian  airs 
Hymnic  with  hope,  and  all  its  avenues 

Love's  golden  thoroughfares. 

Forward,  O  China!  for  the  Christ  appears 

Upon  the  shadows  of  thy  centuried  loss; 

And  thou  shalt  find,  through  all  the  widening 

years, 
Thine  Eden  at  His  Cross. 


ARS  ARTIUM. 
I. 

A  N  architect  builded  a  palace  of  stone 
^^     Of  exquisite  form  and  hue, 
With  bronze  colossi  and  pillared  zone 
Of  porphyry  purpled  through. 

The  master  boasted  and  proudly  swore 

That  unto  the  end  of  time 
His  house  should  endure,  and  forevermore 

Resound  with  his  praise  sublime. 
69 


70  ARS  ARTIUM 

Passed  swiftly  by  a  year  and  a  day; 

An  earthquake  shattered  the  place; 
The  palace  of  splendor  tottered  and  lay 

A  ruin  in  earth's  embrace. 


II. 


A  sculptor,  centuries  long  ago, 

Carved  out  of  the  marble  white 

An  Aphrodite,  with  face  to  show 
The  glory  of  Love's  delight. 


The  people  wondering  worshipped,  bound 

By  spells  of  the  goddess  fair, 
Foam-swathed,  wind-wafted,  with  roses  crowned 

Queen-Beauty  of  earth  and  air. 


ARS  ARTIUM 

The  sculptor  and  people  ceased  to  be; 

And  afterward  ravening  came 
A  vandal  horde  from  the  northern  sea, 

And  cast  her  to  wreck  and  flame. 


III. 


A  painter  captured  a  rainbow  and  wrought, 

With  pigments  of  Paradise, 
The  Virgin  Mother  of  Christ,  and  caught 

The  wonder-light  in  her  eyes. 


The  picture  hung  in  the  altar  glow; 

And  through  the  cathedral  air, 
From  vaulted  roof  unto  tiles  below, 

It  hallowed  the  place  of  prayer. 


72  ARS  ARTIUM 

But  time  was  ruthless;  the  colors  waned; 

Half- veiled  seemed  the  face  devout; 
The  shining  features  grew  dark  and  stained 

And  the  vision  faded  out. 


IV. 

A  great  musician,  his  genius  fired 
To  passion's  supreme  degree, 

By  heavenly  orchestras  inspired, 
Created  a  symphony. 


It  swept  from  a  hundred  instruments 

A  whirlwind  of  consonance; 
The  throngs,  bewildered  with  art's  ascents, 

Were  held  in  ineffable  trance. 


ARS  ARTIUM  73 

The  morning  came  with  impetuous  mood 
O'er-breaking  the  night's  demur; 

But  the  music  was  not  for  the  multitude 
Without  an  interpreter. 


V. 


A  poet  fashioned  a  song  and  gave, 
Like  Noah's  ultimate  dove, 

The  soul  of  his  soul  to  wind  and  wave; 
And  swiftly  the  bird  of  love 


Found  rest  and  covert  for  welcome  wings, 
And  nested  in  gladdened  hearts; 

And  nourished  her  brood  of  quiring  things, 
Song's  numberless  counterparts. 


74  ARS  ARTIUM 

The  poet  vanished;  but  sweet  and  strong, 

In  ravishing  roundelays, 
The  poet's  soul  and  the  poet's  song 

Live  on  in  the  world  always. 


SONNETS. 


75 


THE  SONNET. 

THE  poet's  burnished  glass  of  thought 
Held  up  to  Nature's  daily  lure, 
Whereon  each  pageant  mood  is  caught 
In   radiant   miniature. 


Life's  near  inclusive  form  of  things ; 

Love's  narrowing  circumference, 
Wherein  Grief's  gathered  glory  springs 

And  Joy's  delights  condense. 


The  ancient  song  of  poet  tongue; 
The  modern  lilt  of  poet  lips  ; 
Th'  elect  of  Art.  forever  young, 

Unknowing  time's  eclipse 
77 


I. 

THE  TREE  AND  THE  ROSE. 

A    GREAT  green  tree  grew  'neath  the  south- 
ern skies 

O'erspread  with  great  white  roses;  every- 
where 
Upon  it,   like  a  thatch,  with  gleam  and 

glare, 

The  flowers  lay  thick  and  fragrant.     In  surprise 
I  gazed,  and  marked  a  bush  beside  it  rise 
The  twain  entwining,  each  the  other's  care, 
Tree  strength,  rose  blossom,  an  expanding 

pair, — 
Together  one  rose-tree  to  poet  eyes. 

78 


THE  TREE  AND  THE  ROSE       79 

Thus  is  it,  my  Beloved,  my  White  Rose! 

God  set  thee  at  my  side,  and  thou  dost 

climb, 
Mixing  with  mine  thy  soul's  ascension 

power. 

Each  through  the  other  to  completeness  grows ; 
And  my  life's  glory  is  my  Rose  of  rime, 
And  my  life's  gladness  is  my  heart  in 
flower. 


II. 


LIKE  LOVE  IN  HEAVEN. 

DELOVED,  I  would  have  thee  love  me  true 
As  lovers  do  in  Heaven,  whose  opened 

eyes 

Behold,  without  the  flesh  that  falsifies, 
The  ageless  soul  in  beauty  fresh  and  new. 
Beloved,  I  would  have  thy  spirit  view 

Th'  enlarging  life  which  deep  within  me 

lies, 

And     know    that    what    will    make    thy 
Paradise 

Hereafter  now  is  thine  for  thee  to  woo. 

80 


LIKE  LOVE  IN  HEAVEN  8 1 

My  life  is  thine  to  take  and  take  again; 
My  heart  is  for  an  Eden  unto  thee; 

And   love  shall  never   lose  its  golden 

prime. 

Oh!  love  me  now  as  thou  wilt  love  me  then, 
Seeing  me  somewhat  as  the  angels  see, 
Knowing  me  unimpaired  by  loss  and 
time. 


III. 

LOVE'S  IMMORTALITY. 

DE  LOVED,  shall  we  change  as  we  grow  old? 
Shall  this  great  love  of  ours  that  every- 
where, 

In  look,  in  word,  in  daily  tender  care, 
Burns  like  high-leaping  flame  grow  ever  cold? 
If  we  but  knew  years  hence  we  should  behold 
This  same  sweet  glory,  that  our  lives  would 

wear 

These  same  bright  crowns  of  joy,  our  hearts 
could  bear 

Each  cross,  each  loss,  by  deathless  love  consoled. 

82 


LOVE'S  IMMORTALITY  83 

Sweetheart,  I  fear  not,  knowing  love's  true  sign, 
Knowing  love's  changeless  law  and  ageless 

life; 
And  since  thou  art  God's  perfect  gift 

to  me, 

And  God  is  love,  our  love  is  love  divine 
Which  cannot  alter,  but  is  ever  rife 

With  deepening  proofs  of  immortality. 


IV. 

MY  SERAPHIM. 

|\/l  Y  books,  dear  comrades,  each  a  constant 

guest 

Beside  my  humble  hearth;  a  waiting  quire, 
Minstrels  of  thought  to  sing  as  I  desire; 
The  master-host  of  time  all  dispossessed 
Of  earthliness,  in  garb  immortal  dressed; 
My  sacred  seraphim  that  fan  the  fire 
Of  smouldering  power,  till  'neath  their 
grace  aspire 

White  flames  of  poesie  on  skyward  quest. 

84 


MY  SERAPHIM  8$ 

Chant  on,    life-bearers,  from  your  thrones  of 

peace ! 
And  I  will  strike  my  lyre;  perchance  my 

soul, 
Set    to    the    measures    of    perpetual 

prayer, 

May  add  one  note  to  your  rich  harmonies, 
And,  through  the  service  of  your  bounteous 

dole, 
The  fadeless  robes  of  inspiration  wear. 


V. 
SAINT  MICHAEL'S. 

"T*  WAS  midnight,  and  I  stood  outside  the  door 
Of  the  great  hospital's  benignant  close; 
The  fevered  city  lay  in  deep  repose; 
I  rang;  a  sister  answered;  with  heart  sore 
I  faced  a  bed  where  flesh  and  spirit  tore 

At  shame's   red   robes   'mid  death's  con- 
vulsing throes: 

I  flashed  hope's  skyward  lights;  upbraid- 
ings  rose 

Infuriate  with  lust's  demonial  lore. 
86 


SAINT  MICHAEL'S  87 

At  last  I  stood  without;  the  morning's  beams 
Shone  on  the  portal;  but  a  horror  stole 
Across  my  brain  working  revulsion's 

spell. 
Behind  each    door   what    is?    and   what   man 

dreams  ? 
I  loathed  the  forced  achievement  of    my 

soul — 

Culture  in    holiness   through  sight  of 
hell. 


VI. 
DAY-DREAMS. 

T^HE  best  I  know  is  what  I  may  not  know, 
My  day-dreams,  psychic  auras  that  sur- 
round 

My  spirit's  inmost  working,  being  ground 
And  sky  for  all  the  trees  of  life  that  grow 
Bearing  ideals.     Thus  does  God  bestow 

My  mystical  becomings  'neath  all  sound, 
All  sheen  of  earth,  where  soul  and  sense 
unbound 

Are  penetrant  with  Heaven's  creative  flow. 
88 


DAY-DREAMS  89 

I  know  the  best  is  what  has  never  been; 

And  next,  the  knowing, — faith's  foresight 

of  things, — 
Cities  of  God   for  them  who  dare  to 

trust. 

So  silent  grow  I,  sing  I,  feeling  kin 
To  oracles,  apocalyptic  kings, 

And  every  soul  that  climbs  o'er  death 
and  dust. 


VII. 
TENNYSON. 

T^HE    Laureate    Alfred,    chief    of    Arthur's 

knights, 

A  greater  than  the  mighty  Lancelot, 
Clomb  up  the  thousand  steps,  and,  faltering 

not, 

Clove  through  the  portal  of  the  fiery  lights. 
He  gazed  unswooning  on  the  awful  sights 

Across  the  swath  of  mystic  flame,  and  got 
Eyes  to  the  naked  chalice,  waxing  hot 

With  poet  passion  on  immortal  heights. 
90 


TENNYSON  9! 

His  soul,  white-heaten  in  the  Muses'  fire, 

Seven-times   refined    passed   on   and    did 
prevail ; 

And  now,  in  samite  of  his  pure  desire, 
On  open  vision  glows  the  Holy  Grail. 

Victorious  knight  amid  great  angels  strong! 

We  will  ascend  thy  thousand  steps  of  song. 


VIII. 
PRINCETON. 

EPOSEFUL  spot  horizoned  by  the  stress 
Of  thunderous  cities!    Here  stern  Nature 

seems 
One   verdurous   peace,    an   atmosphere   of 

dreams, 

With  ever-lilting  languorous  caress. 
Yet  everywhere  a  laborous  mightiness, 

A  fine  vibration,  youthly  anvilled,  streams, — 
Felt  music,  muted  clangor,  wisdom's  themes 

Turning  to  vantage  for  the  world's  redress. 
92 


PRINCETON  93 

This  is  the  armory  of  intellect 

Where  swords  of  thought  are  wrought  for 

lords  of  strife, 
The  while  th'  enfreedomed  spirit  beats 

down  brawn 

On  the  last  lines  of  darkness,  stands  erect, 
Grasping  the  vision  of  dominion  life, 

And    cries,    "The   Day!"    across    the 
reddening  dawn. 


LYRICS. 


95 


I. 


THE  SAME  OLD  LOVE. 


T    OVE  is  ever  young. 

Albeit  Life  feels  time's  growing  age, 
Albeit  Life  sees  earth's  slowing  wage, 
Love  has  the  same  melodious  golden  tongue. 


Love  is  ever  strong. 

Albeit  Life  feels  time's  heavying  cross, 
Albeit  Life  sees  earth's  levying  dross, 

To  Love  the  same  imperial  hands  belong. 
7  97 


98  THE  SAME  OLD   LOVE 

Love  is  ever  glad. 

Albeit  Life  feels  time's  galling  chains, 
Albeit  Life  sees  earth's  falling  fanes, 

Love's  heart  keeps  fresh  the  early  joy  it  had. 


Love  is  ever  true. 

Albeit  Life  feels  time's  ailing  lyre, 
Albeit  Life  sees  earth's  failing  fire, 

Love  is  the  same  old  Love  forever  new. 


II. 

A  SOUL'S  RETURN. 

T  HEARD  a  strange  but  familiar  song 

Above  the  noise  of  the   hurrying  throng. 

It  drifted  out  of  a  window  set 
With  heliotrope  and  mignonette. 

It  seemed  the  voice  of  Love's  oracle, 
A  heavenly  music  that  earthward  fell. 

It  was  my  own  wrought  melody; 
It  was  my  soul  come  back  to  me. 


99 


III. 

ATMOSPHERE. 

T  WONDER  so! 

Such  holy  sweetness  wraps  my  soul, 
An  atmosphere  that  takes  control 
Of  all  my  nature,  claiming  all 
In  swift  abandon  to  the  thrall 

Of  Love's  deep  ebb  and  flow. 

Hold,  doubting  heart! 
This  is  a  soul  become  a  breath 
For  my  soul's  breathing.  My  soul  saith 

100 


ATMOSPHERE  IOI 

"I  drink  thee,  sink  thee  into  me, 
Thou  kindred  spirit  mystery, 

And  mixed  with  me  thou  art!" 


Stop,  questioning  sense! 
I  yield  myself  entranced  and  still, 
And  let  this  subtle  aura  fill 
My  being's  rapt  interior  frame, 
Whose  quivering  ecstasies  proclaim 

Love's  secret  evidence. 


O  wonder,  cease! 
Nor  space,  nor  clay  is  barrier 
To  this  caressing  breath  of  her, 
That  wooes  my  heart  from  hour  to  hour, 
Imbues  with  Love's  ethereal  power 

And  Love's  imperial  peace. 


102  ATMOSPHERE 

Sweet  spirit  lore! 
This  is  the  truest,  realest 
Of  thought,  of  love,  the  essence  blest 
That  blends  in  full  communion 
Two  mated  beings  into  one, — 
One  soul  forevermore 


IV. 
THE  CAPTAIN  ON  THE  BRIDGE. 

'T'HE  night  is  nigh, 

The  sea  is  high, 
The  dashing  waves  o'erwhelm; 

But  all  serene, 

With  vigil  keen, 
The  captain  's  at  the  helm. 

Across  the  sea 

He  pilots  me 
Through  gulf  and  foaming  ridge; 

I  know  no  fear, 

For  he  is  near, — 

My  captain  on  the  bridge. 
103 


IO4  THE  CAPTAIN   ON   THE   BRIDGE 

In  mist  and  storm, 

His  beaten  form 
Moves  all  the  long  night  through; 

He  knows  the  path 

The  great  ship  hath, 
And  steers  her  straight  and  true. 

Across  the  sea 

He  pilots  me 
Through  gulf  and  foaming  ridge; 

I  know  no  fear, 

For  he  is  near, — 
My  captain  on  the  bridge. 


I  have  no  chart 

Nor  seaman's  art 

For  ocean's  thoroughfare; 


THE  CAPTAIN  ON  THE  BRIDGE  10$ 

But  tmdistressed 

I  calmly  rest, 
And  trust  my  captain  there. 

Across  the  sea 

He  pilots  me 
Through  gulf  and  foaming  ridge; 

I  know  no  fear, 

For  he  is  near, — 
My  captain  on  the  bridge. 


O  soul  astrain 

On  life's  rough  main! 
Thy  Captain's  in  command; 

And,  tempests  past, 

In  port  at  last 
Thy  bark  will  safely  land. 


IO6          THE  CAPTAIN  ON  THE  BRIDGE 

Across  the  sea 

He  pilots  thee 
Through  gulf  and  foaming  ridge; 

Have  thou  no  fear, 

For  He  is  near, — 
Thy  Captain  on  the  bridge. 


V. 
RETROSPECTION. 

HPHE  years  are  grim  because  of  me, 

Before  and  after,  Judgment  saith; 
I  go  the  way  of  misery 

And  tread  the  purple  grapes  of  death. 


Offence  is  all  forgiven,  but  still 

The  crimson  scars  in  heart  and  flesh 
Are  mockers  of  the  later  will 

And  start  the  olden  pangs  afresh. 
107 


108  RETROSPECTION 

It  is  not  love  I  failed  to  win; 

It  is  not  unrewarded  strife; 
It  is  the  man  I  might  have  been 

That  makes  the  tragedy  of  life. 


VI. 
GENESIS. 

HHHE  outlet  of  eternity 

Into  the  sweep  of  time; 
Gateway  through  which  life's  great  to-be 

Has  issuance  sublime; 
Love's  tidal  mystery  set  free 

In  history  and  rime. 

First  measure  of  the  music  far 

The  centuries  prolong; 
The  melody  of  morning  star; 

The  moon's  empyreal  song; 
Creation's  fugue  oracular; 

World-preludes    sweet    and    strong. 
109 


I IO  GENESIS 

Primeval  glow  of  Providence 

Upon  the  quickening  spheres; 

Foregleams  of  grace  auroral  whence 
Shall    glide    the   widening   years; 

Sunrise  of  life's  immortal  sense 
Across  earth's  misty  meres. 

Beginning  of  the  winding  way 

The  feet  of  Love  have  trod, — 

Love's  bruised    feet,  by  night,  by  day, 
With  priestly  sandals  shod; 

Breaking  the  path  for  men  astray 
That  they  may  mount  to  God. 


VII. 
THE  SILENCE  OF  GOD. 

I  SAT  at  the  feet  of  the  King, 

With  face  toward  His  face  divine; 

"My  Father!  answer  my  questioning! 

Speak  Thou  of  the  things  to  be  mine, 

The  kingdom  to  which  I  am  heir, 

The  wealth  and  power  I  shall  share!" 


But  God  was  still; 

I  bowed  my  will; 

in 


H2  THE  SILENCE  OF  GOD 

And  through  me  there  softly  stole 

A  sweetness  the  heavens  forspend; 

And  somehow  I  knew  I  shall  know  when  my  soul 
Is  able  to  comprehend. 


The  silence  of  God  is  His  loudest  word. 
O  Love!  I  have  heard,  I  have  heard. 


VIII. 
MY  FATHER. 

GOD  of  rest! 
Thy  watchful  *care  has  safely  kept 
My  soul  from  evil  while  I  slept; 
Thy  guardian  love  has  been  my  shade; 
Thy  healing  touch  has  strength  conveyed; 
In  mystic  sleep  destroyed  Thou  hast 
The  disenchantments  of  the  past; 
In  life  renewed,  in  frame  reborn, 
I  wake  and  praise  Thee  with  the  morn, 
O  God  of  rest, 
My  Father! 

8  "3 


114  MY  FATHER 

O  God  of  dreams! 

By  night  Thou  hast  revealed  to  me 
Chambers  of  precious  imagery; 
The  fresher  air,  the  farther  lights, 
My  native  world  upon  the  heights, 
Dear  faces  of  the  earlier  time, 
Loved  voices  with  the  olden  rime. 
I  view  my  hope  mount  from  eclipse, 
I   hail  my  heart's  apocalypse, 

O  God  of  dreams, 
My  Father! 


O  God  of  light! 

When  morning's  beams  my  slumbers  break 
I  feel  Thy  presence  as  I  wake; 
About  me  floats  an  atmosphere 
All  crystalline,  most  pure  and  clear, 


MY  FATHER 

Charged  with  Thy  tender  Fatherhood, 
Through  which  I  sense  th'  Eternal  Good 
In  pulsings  of  high  purpose  beat; 
And  all  my  soul  lies  at  Thy  feet, 
O  God  of  light, 
My  Father! 


O  God  of  life! 

From  sleep  and  dreams  I  turn,  I  spring, 
To  greet  my  being's  Sire  and  King. 
Refreshed  and  strong  I  now  present 
Myself  a  humble  instrument 
By  which  Thy  covenant  may  pursue 
Its  course  of  love  the  whole  day  through. 
Accept  me,  let   the   joy   be   mine, 
Of  service  'neath  Thy  yoke  divine, 

O  God  of  life, 
My  Father! 


Il6  MY   FATHER 

O  God  of  love! 

What  blessed  guerdons  Thou  dost  give ! 
The  grace  to  grow  more  sensitive 
To  every  rhythm;  the  subtle  power 
To  see  the  far-off  full-blown  flower 
Of  every  seed;  the  ecstasy 
Of  secret  comradeship  with  Thee; 
The  glory,  only  faith  may  win, 
Of  working  out  what  Heaven  works  in; 

O  God  of  love, 
My  Father! 


WHEAT  AND  HUSKS. 


117 


I. 

FRUIT  OF  THE  THRESHING. 

HPHE  wheat  of  the  soul!     God's  grain! 
The  seed  of  centuried  sowing, 
The  fruit  of  celestial  growing, 

The  harvest  of  infinite  pain. 

For  each  inspiring  thought, 

And  every  conception  high, 
Descends  from  the  azure  sky, 

By  heavenly  forces  brought. 

All  things  in  the  soul  that  are  good 

Are  out  of  God's  bountihood. 
119 


I2O  FRUIT  OF  THE  THRESHING 

The  earth  is  a  threshing-floor; 

Upon  it  the  harvest  lies, 

A  mixture  that  signifies 
The  perfected  fruited  store, 

When  under  the  flail's  laborious  art 

The  wheat  and  the  husk  dispart. 


II. 

THE  NEED  OF  THE  HUSK. 

HUSK,  thou  art  more  than  husk! 

The  wheat  had  need  of  thee; 
Thy  worth  is  the  destiny 
Thou  gavest  the  day  at  dusk. 

Without  the  husk  there  had  been  no  wheat, 

No  bread  for  man  to  eat; 

Strong  life  had  withered,  sweet  love  had  failed, 

And  all  the  world  had  wailed. 

Without  the  husk  there  had  been  no  flower 

To  all  thought's  processes  of  power; 

121 


122      THE  NEED  OF  THE  HUSK 

No  ship  sea-riding  from  shore  to  shore; 
No  word  sea-piercing  through  cable's  core; 
No  muscle's  venture;  no  spirit's  climb; 
No  engine's  motion;  no  poet's  rime; 
No  restful  temple;  no  laborous  mart; 
No  science,  history,  or  art; 
No  children's  laughter;  no  mother's  song; 
No  manhood's  glory  that  rights  the  wrong; 
No  home,  no  state,  no  hope,  no  faith; 
But  only  desert  and  brooding  death. 


III. 

THE  RIME  OF  THE  REFUSE. 

HPHE  poet  is  true  to  the  glume; 
No  cheating  of  negatives! 

He  sings  of  each  thing  that  lives 
And  goes  unsung  to  its  doom 
For  sake  of  the  world's  advance; 

He  sees  what  the  refuse  is, 

Its  mystical  dignities, 
And  rimes  it  with  high  romance. 

Each  speck  of  dust  has  a  fleck  of  sky 

That's  open  with  bluest  blue; 
123 


124  THE   RIME  OF  THE  REFUSE 

And  he  who  raises  unveiled  eye, 
And  gazes  fast  therethrough, 
Beholds  the  heavens  close-pressed  to  earth, 
And  vanishing  things'  eternal  worth. 


IV. 
LOSS  AND  GAIN. 

HPHE  poet  of  Nature  discerns  somehow, 

In  psychical  moments  when 
The  very  zodiac  seems  to  bow 

And  seizes  bewildered  ken 
With  signs  and  symbols,  whose  lights  rehearse 

What  is  and  shall  ever  be, 
The  changing  prose  of  the  universe 

One  changeless  poesie. 

I  sing  of  the  husk:  I  sing  of  the  wheat; 
The  chaff  that  is  trampled  beneath  men's  feet; 

The  grain  that  is  garnered  to  make  life  sweet. 
125 


126  LOSS  AND   GAIN 

The  things  of  the  subtle  soul  are  twain, 

The  fruit  for  loss  and  the  fruit  for  gain; 

All  things  are  the  husks  that  are  not  the  grain. 


V. 

THE  HUSK'S  GLORY. 

I   SING  of  the  wheat  for  what  it  will  do; 

I  sing  of  the  husk  for  what  it  has  done ; 

And,  praising  the  wheat  'neath  the  harvest 

sun, 
I  give  to  the  husk  its  glory  true; 

And  thus  is  the  poet's  moment-music  one 
With  Nature's  centuried  song  forever  new. 


The  husk  is  grown  for  the  wheat; 
The  evil  exists  for  the  good; 
Methinks  the  archangels  understood 

When  man  met  his  first  defeat. 
127 


128  THE  HUSK'S   GLORY 

Some  prophets  have  fathomed  the  mystery 
Beholding  what  was  and  is  to  be. 
Some  souls  have  entered  Edenic  gate 
Since  Cherubim  swords  were  set 
With  holy  forbidding  flame, 
And  wandered  over  those  meads  of  Fate, 
Faced  Love  by  his  side  who  let 

Man's  glory  dismount  to  shame. 


VI. 
THE  STARTING  OF  SORROW. 

VENTURESOME  poet,  who  hast  betimes 

Strange  vision  of  things  past  earth's  despair, 
Be  cautious,  immure  thy  mystic  rimes! 

Thou  may'st  not  all  thou  see'st  declare, — 
How  man  and  Fate  met  face  to  face, 
In  Eden's  most  exalted  place 

Hard  by  the  tree  of  destiny; 
How  Deity  did  there  permit 
The  finite  'gainst  the  Infinite 

To  set  unbending  brow  and  knee; 
And  why  th'  Eternal  Power  withdrew, 

When  Nature's  golden  age  was  new, 
129 


130  THE   STARTING  OF  SORROW 

And  all  the  sin  and  sorrow  started 

By  which  the  earth  and  sky  were  parted, 

And  all  man's  high  desires 

Became  but  smouldering  fires, 

For  Love's  superior  pain, 

And  Life's  ulterior  gain, 

Let  God  and  Time  explain! 

And  keep  thou  still, 

Thou  seer  of  good  and  ill! 


VII. 
GOD  AND  THE  WRONG. 

T  COUNT  on  God  for  wherefore  and  whence,- 
God's  omnipresent  omnipotence; 
The  selfsame  Maker  of  men  and  stars 

And  star-laws  and  laws  of  the  soul, 
And  cycling  centuried  calendars 

Unchanging  toward  selfsame  goal 
Beknown,  since  the  primal  founts  are  one 
And  every  shine  is  sign  of  the  sun. 

I  will  not  rail  at  the  wrong; 

'T  is  husk  for  my  golden  wheat ; 
131 


132  GOD  AND  THE  WRONG 

I  count  it  such  and  will  beat 
It  loose  with  a  threshing  song; 

Then  gather  my  grain,   and  for  joy  of  it 
Will  sing  of  the  husk's  sure  benefit. 


VIII. 
THE  LAW  OF  THE  EVIL. 

OD  somehow  gets  the  good  from  the  ill 

And  works  His  unhindered  will; 
And  evil's  law  is  the  law  of  Love, 
Love  dauntless,   knowing  the  Power  above 
Must  bring  each  right  to  its  might  and  throne 
And  crown  it  God's  chosen  own. 


I  speak  of  law.     'T  is  a  child  that  speaks 
With  knowledge  only  from  inner  moods 

And  deep  impulsions  that  rise  and  rush 
133 


134  THE  LAW  OF  THE  EVIL 

Imperious,  as  one  finds  who  seeks 

And  hears  the  spirit's  beatitudes 

Across    the    unfathomable    hush; 
Nature's  proclaiming  spell 
From  deep-set  oracle; 
The  rhythm  of  sweetness  set  to  awe, 
Inseparable  love  and  law; 
I  give  it  trust,  I  will  not  deny 
The  voice  of  God  in  earth  and  sky, 
And  my  soul's  voices  as  true  as  His, 
Life's  inborn  prophecies. 


IX. 
FATE  AND  PAIN. 

I  WILL  not  rail  nor  complain 

At  fate  or  at  pain; 
I  see  them  husks  to  my  grain. 
I  cherish  them  answers  to  needs, 
Time-servants  for  destiny's  seeds, — 
The  wheat  for  eternity's  mountains  and  meads. 


I  sing  of  the  threshing-floor, 

The  floor  of  the  soul; 
Here  lies  the  harvested  store; 

For  what?     Thou  knowest  the  goal 
135 


136  FATE  AND  PAIN 

O  God!     But  how  hard  is  the  way 
Of  beating  and  bruising, 
Of  pain  and  confusing, 

The  only  means  for  the  sway 
Of  right  over  wrong, 

Of  wheat  over  husks  and  the  day 
Of  garner  and  song! 


X. 

A  SONG  OF  THE  MYSTICALS. 

T  SING  of  the  mystical  wind 

That  symbols  high  energy; 

The  sweep  of  the  unconfined; 

Inbreaking  of  powers  that  be 

Paroled  from  Love's  unbeholden  surge, 

Across  the  heavens'  close  verge. 

I  sing  of  the  magical  sky 

O'er-rushing  its  azure  meres 
In  waftures  that  purify 

Earth's  vaporous  atmospheres, 
137 


138  A   SONG   OF   THE   MYSTICALS 

Space,  time,  and  nature  from  gardens  above, 
The  constant  blowing  of  Love. 


I  sing  of  the  musical  might, 

The  motions  of  spirit  that  flow 

Down  realer  realms  of  delight 
Than  ever  the  senses  know; 

The  cadence  of  severing  holiness, 

Love's  tenderest  storm  and  stress. 


I  sing  of  the  miracle  grace 

That  fanneth  my  threshing-floor; 

I  yield  to  its  tropic  embrace, 

I  throw  it  my  bruised  store, 

Heaven's  purging  that  perfects  my  freedomed 
grain, 

Love's  victory  through  pain. 


A  SONG  OF  THE  MYSTIC ALS  139 

I  sing  of  the  mythical  breath; 

The  Life  of  the  Holy  Ghost, 
The  Power  that  is  death  unto  Death, 

Love  unto  the  uttermost; 
The  covenant  winnowing  Passion  of   God 
Reclaiming  the  soul  from  the  clod. 


XL 


BREAK  OF  THE  DAY. 

T^HE  hour  of  the  soul  appears; 

Tis  Love's  time,  break  of  the  day, 
That  ushers  the  golden  years 

And  metamorphoses  clay, 
When  pain  is  no  more, — not  hence 

In  nebulous  paradise, 
But  here,  in  earth's  circumference 

And  under  these  azure  skies; 
For  the  bruising  time  below 

Is  past,  and  the  wheat  is  free; 
And  only  the  upper  breezes  blow 

In  winnowing  ecstasy. 
140 


XII. 
THROUGH  DEATH  TO  LIFE. 

TTHE  soul  full-used 

Has  once  been  bruised 

As  th'  unseen  Thresher  willed; 
Its  fullest  worth 
To  Heaven  or  earth 

Is  that  which  has  first  been  killed. 


The  brightest  hopes 
For  skyey  slopes 

Are  those  that  have  been  consumed; 
141 


142  THROUGH  DEATH  TO   LIFE 

The  highest  joys, 
Time  ne'er  accloys, 

Are  those  that  have  been  entombed. 


The  greatest  lives 
Where  service  hives 

Are  those  that  have  once  been  slain; 
The  sweetest  songs 
The  world  prolongs 

Are  those  that  have  come   through    pain, 


The  Living  Breath 
Alone  through  death 

Makes  man  and  Nature  real; 
Thus  he  who  dies 
To  self  shall  rise 

And  reach  his  soul's  ideal. 


XIII. 
THE  TOUCH  OP  THE  SKIES. 

[   SING  of  the  winnowed  soul; 
I  sing  of  the  yielded  will 

For  what  God  would  have  it  be, 
Life  set  unto  Love's  high  goal, 
All  Heaven  let  loose  to  fill 
Existence  with  ecstasy. 
The  flail  shall  never  be  felt  again; 
The  bruising  ends,  there  is  no  more  pain; 
What  force  ennobles  and  purifies 

Shall  always  be  the  touch  of  the  skies, 
143 


144  THE  T°UCH  OF  THE  SKIES 

And  never  the  earth's  sharp  instruments, 
But  ever  the  heavens'  most  sweet  descents; 
Love's  blowing  and  flowing  increasing  sweet 
And  ever  the  soul's  increasing  wheat. 


XIV. 
THE  CREED  OF  LOVE. 

T    OVE'S  wind  makes  chaff  of  the  husk 
And  blows  far  away  the  chaff; 

The  dawn  descends  into  dusk, 
And  out  of  my  joy  I  laugh, 

And  sing  as  my  wheat  falls  back  to  me, 

Made  fit  for  the  granary. 


The  days  of  threshing  are  o'er; 

The  winnowing  time  is  past; 
The  wheat  from  the  threshing-floor 

Is  safely  garnered  at  last; 
145 


146  THE  CREED  OF  LOVE 

Stored  up  for  seed  and  a  later  spring 
And  a  greater  harvesting. 


The  wheat  of  my  soul  is  mine 

Because  it  is  God's.     'T  is  He 
Who  planted  the  grain  divine 

And  builded  the  granary, 
Who  gathers  destiny's  seeds 

With  all  the  heavens  in  song, 
Makes  love  the  creed  of  all  creeds 

And  man's  heart   sweet  and   strong. 


A  parable 


of  the   rose 


M191840 


A  127 
P 

THE  UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 


YC1482S9 


